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“It should be somewhere around… here.” Her foot touched ice beneath the snow, and for a moment the flurry cleared and she was able to see that she was standing at the edge of a large, iced-over lake. With a few deft movements her snowshoes were replaced with ice skates, her trailing robes tied up around her waist like a multicolour sash. She took a moment to brush the snow off the page of the open book she was carrying, revealing a map with faintly glowing outlines (and a glowing dot, marked ‘me’), before closing it with a sharp thump and setting off over the ice. The wind tried to blow her off course, but she was a seasoned skater and her forward crossovers kept her from losing momentum and veering too sharply aside. Eventually her softcore goal appeared through the dazzling white – an island, and on it, a weather-beaten ruin of an ancient temple. A Drow temple. It was a small, square construct barely larger than her room back at the mage’s keep. One wall was practically missing, and the remains of tree roots, long-dead from the harshness of the climate, clung to the remaining walls and trailed across the floor. The sound of the howling wind was muffled in here, and it Solo felt eerily quiet. She could clearly hear her breath for the first time in days, and her heartbeat. It took only a moment to locate the trapdoor and clear away the brittle roots enough to open it. She changed her boots yet again, from ice-ready blades to tough climbing shoes. It was a long way down, and she wasn’t about to mess this up. As she clambered down the dank and narrow staircase, one hand on the frosty wall and the other holding a conjured magelight, she thought through the plan one more time. The Drow queen started this war because an ancient artefact had gone missing from her court, and she blamed the snow elves of stealing it. This same artefact, she hoped, was the one she was now heading towards. The stairwell opened out into a broad, well-lit cavern of blue ice, and she realised for the first time that the stairs indian were not made of temple rock, but pure ice. An ethereal glow pulsed from deep within the walls, and high above her stalactites bigger than she was filled the far away ceiling. The cavern had retained some heat beneath the permafrost, not enough to be considered pleasant or even warm, but enough that her massive furs were more of a nuisance than a help. She took them off, and felt free to stretch in her loose academy robe. Her reflection gazed back at her from a thousand Brunette different places, caught inside the multifaceted sheets of ice. She stared at her form as she crossed the frozen floor. A half-elf girl with tight, curly ginger hair stared back at her. She had often been teased for that hair, so human in its origin, and so bright and fiery next to the more demure and pallid snow elf tones. She kept it short, and erotic her long pointed ears peaked though the top. This is how she got her nickname – with her hair so red she looked just like an arctic cloudberry. She had put on her finest robes at the start of this adventure, but they were now starting to show signs of wear and tear – there was patches on her sleeves and her hem was pale and frostbitten. She stuck her wand, a beautiful sprig of silver aspen, into her belt and carried on. Near the farthest wall, where the glow seemed strongest, was a raised dais with a basin in front of it, and what looked like an ornately carved throne. Not a very comfortable seat, she thought, looking at its saddle-like shape and strange, bumpy textured surface. She consulted her book. “The Joy of Just-Ice is one of the Queen’s most beloved of all her royal ritual objects. It grants the wearer a complete and utter love for Just-Ice. Once worn, the throne of Just-Ice will set the wearer free.” “It’s…” she sighed. Then I waited, not knowing what to expect with it so close then, surely the door wasn't an obstacle for a supernatural creature. Then kissing and sucking on her nipples until they hardened in my mouth. Uh-oh. I'm gonna swim, I need erotic to swim softcore some laps to burn off some of this emotional shit.” The receptionist has my sister a worried look. Look how wet you are, wet for your rapist' He growled, his hips now thrusting faster into her, pushing his full, thick length indian deep inside her tight cunt. "Liar, I heard you back then. Feeling naughty, inspired to make such beautiful art with my two lovers, I leaned over and sucked on the tip of Ealaín's cock. “Lucille! Just thinking about males out on the net masturbating to her degradation made Ronja feel sick. She shakes the can vigorously, bends back down, smothering Cindy's face. The silhouettes of Jason, KK and Billy Joe between the two haulers made his emotions heavy. He could feel Brie’s face hot against his skin. Jennie’s eyes scanned over a selection of dildos and vibrators, cuffs, shackles, ropes, ball-gags, harnesses, canes, whips, riding crops and many other sinister things she daren’t remember the name of. He was slick with her own juices and rubbed easily against her asshole before she moved to object about this anal entry, but before she could say much of anything Brunette Maurice grabbed her by the throat and pulled her head back. He picked it up again and watched a little bit more, then, kowtowing to the understanding that watching pornography at work was unprofessional, put it back down. Me I stroked his chest, massaging him as I slammed down his cock. There’s no way I can carry you up the stairs.” When did Fernando come? Leona got up and then kicked some sand over the fire to smoother it. He quickly scooted forward, over top my chest, aiming it directly to my face before yelling, "Open your mouth. I felt a bit out of place wearing jeans and a polo. “OK!” agreed Stacy, “but you have to be quiet and let me do it, I learned a neat trick to sound sexy!” The next morning, with Lily sleeping off the fun from the night before, Greg met me on the way back from the mailbox and inquired if I had anyone ‘in need’ as it were, since though I am always hopeful of my escort friends breaking off from their ‘medicines,’ I am Solo not openly judgmental about their usages. Over the next few weeks the idea grew, a seedling taking root and growing in my mind.